


Fearless

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Caretaking, Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick takes care of Danny after the events in Sandford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cookinguptales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookinguptales/gifts).



“I can do it myself, you know.” Danny didn’t mind Nick feeding him. He kind of liked it, but it wasn’t necessary.

“No, you can’t.” Nick held up the spoonful of soup.

“I am capable of feeding myself, Nick. You don’t have to do it.”

“But I _am_ doing it.” He fed Nick the soup.

“I _know_ you are,” he said, after he swallowed. “Hmm, that’s good.”

“Chicken soup. It’s good _for_ you. Made it myself.”

“I know. Can’t taste the can. But it’s missing something, isn’t it?” Danny savored another bite of soup, trying to figure out what was missing. Sage? Salt? No, it was delicious, but something was off just a touch.

“Missing something? I followed the recipe exactly. Cooking’s just science, follow the instructions, you’ll get a predictable result time after time.”

“Mm. That’s probably it.”

Nick frowned.

“No, it’s not that I’m complaining or anything, it’s great. But there’s clearly something . . . predictable about it.”

“Chicken soup should be predictable.” Nick stood and paced around the table. “You don’t want some big freaking surprise in your comforting, homemade, predictable chicken soup!”

Danny sat up straighter. “Not a surprise, really. Just something . . . special. Like, you know, the secret ingredient. The . . . the _BAM_. The _spice_.”

Nick put his hands on his hips, his face falling a little. “Danny, I _made_ it with spices. If you don’t like it--”

“No, no, it’s great. I just mean . . . like those chefs on TV that don't measure, they're fearless as they grab a pinch of something and just chuck it in.” Danny mimicked a chef throwing a pinch of spice into a pot, then held his hands up on either side of his face and shook them. “ _Wahhhh_ ,” he whispered.

“That’s not spice, that’s showmanship.”

“Okay, what did you put in it?”

“Water. Chicken. Carrots, celery, noodles, onions, garlic--”

“But which one did you toss in recklessly. Like a rebel, like bam, or whoosh, or _waaaah_.” He played an air guitar and sang the note, high-pitched and wavering.

“None of them.”

Danny’s shoulder slumped. “Why not?”

Nick shrugged and waved his hands. “Why _not_?”

“Yeah, it’s the difference from just shooting up the bad guys casually, like, whoa, a bad guy, _rat a tat, got ‘em_ and taking a running leap and firing while in mid-air, slamming the target perfectly before rolling into--”

“Stop it!”

Danny stopped, both fingers pointed like gun barrels as he was describing rolling and jumping up to shoot some more. “But I only--”

“ _No_. You don’t shoot while leaping through the air and roll and shoot some more. You don’t take risks, you don’t . . . .” Nick waved his hands in the air. “You don’t _waahhhh_.”

“Why can’t I? You’re so badass and fearless when you do things like--”

“No, Danny. Stop saying things like that, stop _thinking_ it,” Nick said, his voice breaking as he leaned over and put his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “You don’t act badass and you don’t do stupid things and risk your life and you don’t end up . . . like this.” Nick breathed heavily through his nose, blinking and clenching his jaw muscles. "You don't end up hurt."

Danny tilted his head and gave one little nod, then smiled. “You’re worried about me. But you're taking good care of me. I'm _fine_."

Nick leaned back a little, but kept a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I didn’t _bam_ . . . but I made the soup with love.”

“I know. I can taste _that_.”

Nick took a few deep breaths, then held up a finger before disappearing into the kitchen. When he came back, he held up his thumb and middle finger pinched together with a flourish.

“Just a pinch of spice, folks,” Danny said. “Can he do it?”

Nick flicked his wrist and tossed the tiny granules into Danny’s bowl of soup, then turned and tossed again, over his shoulder. “ _Bam!"_

 _ _"Waaaaah_ ,” _Danny said, doing his best jazz hands and winking. “You’re off the fucking chain.”

“I know,” Nick said, smug.

“Got that right in my eye, you did.”

“Oh my gosh, sorry. See what happens when you take risks?” Nick took Danny’s face in his hands and tried to wipe the garlic powder out of his lashes, leaning close to make sure he could see it all.

Danny beamed at him. “Totally worth it. _Waaaaaah_ ,” he said, before Nick shut him up with a kiss.


End file.
